


two people, separate, joined

by rainny_days



Series: and they keep not letting go [2]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Banter, Domestic, EXREMELY quick engagement, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Marriage Proposal, a lil more spookiness but only alluded to, in which jon is Suffering, jon 'i'm not a romantic' archivist agonising over proposing to his dumbass boyfriend, jon is SMITTEN yall, martin is mostly oblivious, pre-apocalypse cuteness, the world's ending y'all better get to it!, there's one more installment after this and i bet y'all can guess what it is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-16 09:23:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21268745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainny_days/pseuds/rainny_days
Summary: Nobody had ever accused Jon of being a marrying type of person, least of all himself. It’s not that he’s particularly put off by the idea, but it had always seemed- unnecessary. Trite. After all, if you were going to be spending the rest of your life with someone, there was hardly any need to throw a party about it.He had thought of it sometimes, idly, back when he and Georgie were still together. But it had always been in a detached, almost academic sort of way. If it’d ever happen, it would’ve been for purely practical reasons.Nothing about this is practical.Jon has a terrible idea, and he can't stop having it





	two people, separate, joined

**Author's Note:**

> what is UP i see y'all are talking about cottage husbands. may i suggest instead: cottage fiancees?
> 
> you don't need to read the last part of the series to understand this, you just need to know that at some point after they started living together in the cottage jonmartin got together.
> 
> quote paraphrased from wntv: 'We are two people, separate. Unique. And joined only where we choose to join'

Jon looks up from his statements when the sound of a door clicks from behind him. “Oh- you’re back already?”

Martin smiles at him, a little wry. “Jon, it’s been three hours,” he says, walking to the kitchen counter and placing an armful of bags onto the surface. Jon blinks, the haze that always comes after a statement slowly lifting from his mind, and looks down at his watch blankly. His mouth makes a small ‘o’ of surprise.

“It has?” He says weakly. “I...must’ve lost track of time.”

That receives a laugh, and Martin rounds towards the sofa to press a fond kiss to the corner of Jon’s lips. Jon leans into it, unable to help the small frown that appears when Martin pulls away. Martin’s lips twitch in an equally helpless movement when he catches Jon’s expression, and he presses a gentle hand into Jon’s hair as he folds himself down, kisses Jon again.

Jon reaches up to touch Martin’s cheek, reverent. It’s been a little more than a week since that first impulsive kiss, and it’s still so new that it almost seems surreal. More than killer worms or infinite hallways or an omnipresent eye, the fact of Martin Blackwood kissing Jonathan Sims seems the most impossible thing that Jon has ever encountered.

When Martin pulls away, his face is flushed with pleasure. “That was...” he begins, and starts a little. “Oh! The groceries- I have to-” he blinks away the dazed look in his eyes, and stands up. The air where he was chills without his presence, and Jon valiantly restrains himself from following Martin like some kind of lost pet.

“So, anything interesting?” Jon asks instead, if only to fill the air. 

Martin makes a small, happy sound as he opens the fridge. “I took a few more pictures of those cows that wander around the edge of the village,” he says, sounding inordinately happy about his inevitably off-center pictures. “And I think they’re really getting to like me! One of them - you know, the really little one? - even let me get pretty close to them before wandering away.”

“Be careful with them,” Jon warns. “They’re still wild animals.”

Martin laughs. “Honestly, Jon, I’d count myself lucky at this point if I ended up getting offed by an offended cow. Unless it was, like, a ghost cow.”

“_ Martin _,” Jon groans, earning himself another giggle.

“What? It might happen!” Martin closes the fridge and begins to neatly tie his plastic bags into small knots, putting them in a basket already dangerously full of similar bags. “Oh- I almost forgot! There was also some kind of occasion, down at the church? I think someone was getting married. Everyone was pulling up in really nice clothes.”

Jon makes a sound of interest. “Interesting choice of location,” he comments. Martin makes a noise of agreement.

“Well, it _ is _ pretty here,” he says. “It’s very- scenic? And everyone looked like they were having a good time. It looked- nice.”

There’s nothing significant in Martin’s voice, but something about his words tucks their way into Jon, makes the words bubble up from his throat involuntarily.

“Do you ever...think about it?”

Martin pauses from where he’s pulling out a pan, getting ready for dinner. “Think about what?”

“You know,” Jon looks down at his hands, awkward. “The whole- getting married. Thing.”

“I-” Martin sounds startled, and when Jon looks up, his face matches his voice. There’s a surprising lack of embarrassment in his features - Jon had always thought that Martin would take something like this in the same stuttering, surprised way he took any romantic declaration on Jon’s part (not that he’d _ thought _ about it, much). Instead, he mostly looks considering, and a little wistful. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t- think about it, sometimes,” he says, and he almost sounds like he’s talking to himself. “I always thought- well, I’d _ imagined _, when I was a kid- you know, stupid kid stuff. I mean- I really liked all that stuff, you know? The big, fairytale wedding. I think I must’ve watched too much Disney as a kid, or something.”

He pauses for a moment, thinking. “But, honestly? I haven’t thought about it, for a while. I mean- it’s not exactly a priority, anymore, considering.”

“That’s- understandable,” Jon forces out, throat suddenly dry. “The timing _ is _...awkward.”

Martin laughs lightly, asks him what he wants for dinner, and that seems to be the end of that.

* * *

Except Jon, obsessive maniac (_ thank _ you, Georgie) that he is, gets the conversation stuck in his head.

Nobody had ever accused Jon of being a _ marrying _ type of person, least of all himself. It’s not that he’s particularly put off by the idea, but it had always seemed- unnecessary. Trite. After all, if you were going to be spending the rest of your life with someone, there was hardly any need to throw a party about it.

He had thought of it sometimes, idly, back when he and Georgie were still together. But it had always been in a detached, almost academic sort of way. If it’d ever happen, it would’ve been for purely practical reasons.

Nothing about this is practical.

He considers running into town to call Georgie, or Melanie, or even Basira, because surely one (or all) of them would be able to talk sense into his head. But that would definitely alarm Martin, and the whole point of the exercise was to _ not _ alarm him with another ill-timed declaration.

“I- I don’t have any rings,” he mutters into the empty air one day, taking advantage of Martin going to call Basira. Talking to himself always made him feel a little more calm, even if it never mitigated his more rash tendencies the way he wished it could. “It’s- it’s customary, to have rings, so I can’t- I can’t- _ ask _, if I don’t have them.” he nods to himself, firm.

Another day. “We’re literally on the run. Nothing would be legally binding. I’ve already told him that I love- about my feelings, so it’d be a purely symbolic gesture of something he already knows. It’s redundant.”

When Martin goes for a walk. “This is- _ ridiculous _ . He _ said _ that he didn’t-”

Then, finally. “_ Fuck _, fine.”

* * *

He decides to do it that day, because he had absolutely no framework for doing something like this outside of the films that he and Georgie used to watch sometimes, and he didn’t really have the resources to manufacture a dramatic airport scene, or make reservations at any fine-dining establishments.

He does make an effort, though. He cleans the house a little more vigorously than usual. He picks out a jumper that isn’t as lumpy as most of his others. He offers to cook dinner, even though it’s Martin’s turn in the rotation. He isn’t sure if it’s _ noticeable _, but Martin looks surprised and pleased, which is rewarding enough in and of itself.

“Your hair’s getting a little long,” Martin comments as they start eating - pasta, which was the only suitably romantic dinner that his frazzled brain had managed to spit out to him. It doesn’t taste quite right, but nothing does, these days. He tries not to dwell too much on it. 

Martin reaches out, falters, but carries through, touching a strand of Jon’s hair.

Jon frowns. “Is it- bad?” Oh god, what if Martin was about to tell him that he needed a haircut because he looked awful, that would be a _ terrible _ time to propose, which meant that he wouldn’t be _ able _ to propose, which meant another night of _ thinking _about proposing-

He notices that Martin’s red, his eyes fixed somewhere near Jon’s head, hand falling to the table. “No,” he says, voice awkward but determined. “I- I like it. I think you look nice.”

Jon opens his mouth. Closes it. “Marry me,” he blurts out.

Martin drops his fork.

“_ Sorry _?” he asks, strangled.

Jon barrels on. “Marry me,” he says again, and his voice only shakes a little in the repetition.

“Jon, is this- is this about the whole-” Martin’s eyes flicker with realisation, and he waves a hand. “Ceremony thing? From like, a week ago? I told you, it’s not that big a deal to me anymore-”

“But it is, to me!” Jon says. Martin looks at him, startled and a little skeptical.

“Are you...sure?” Martin says, insultingly soft. “I mean- if you’re doing this for me-”

Jon glares at him. “I know I have some kind of eldritch monster lying dormant in my mind, but I’d like to think I know what I want, at least.”

Martin rolls his eyes. “You _ know _ that’s not what I meant, Jon,” he returns. “I just- you’re not exactly the _ marrying _ type, you know.”

“Says who?” Jon asks, belligerent. Martin levels him with a Look, and he sighs, forces his shoulders to relax. This isn’t how he’d imagined it - if he’d imagined it at all - but, then, nothing with Martin is. “Look, Martin. I, I’m _ not _ really the marrying type, in all honesty. But- I do want to, with you.” he reaches out, touches Martin’s hand where it’s slack on the table. Takes it in his. “I know it’s- stupid, and reckless, and honestly pointless, since it’s not exactly a great idea to leave any paperwork, considering. And we couldn’t have a _ ceremony _, either, since anyone either of us knows wouldn’t be able to come-”

“Go on, Jon, sell it to me more,” Martin murmurs, and Jon barks out a laugh.

“What I _ mean _ is,” he says, voice as steady as if he were reading a statement, the _ rightness _ of this moment settling on his shoulders. “I know it might be a bad idea, but I still wanted to ask you. Because- because it might be the end of the world,” he quirks his lip. “Which should make this even more unappealing, but I thought- I thought it’d be nice, to have this with you, even if we couldn’t have anything else.”

“Jon,” Martin says, wobbly. “How is it- how are _ you _the hopeless romantic in this relationship?”

“I suppose I’ve had some bad influences,” Jon teases gently, and Martin snorts, pulls Jon into the juncture of his collar and neck, warm and smelling of home.

They stay there for a while, before Jon speaks again. “So, is that a yes...?”

“I mean, after sacrificing myself to the Lonely for you, what’s another favor- I’m _ kidding _ , Jon! _ Kidding _ .” Martin laughs when Jon extricates himself from their embrace to scowl at him. “ _ Obviously _ I would like to marry you. That isn’t even a _ question _.”

“Well, you could’ve _ said _ something-” Jon starts, and Martin places his palms at either side of his face, squishes his cheeks together.

“I can’t believe I’m engaged to an _ idiot _,” Martin says, sounding absolutely delighted. Jon considers debating him, but instead decides to take a more familiar path to victory, and reels him in for a kiss instead.

Nothing about this should matter, should be important, should make warmth curl through every inch of Jon’s veins, until even the hunger that constantly lingers at the edges of his mind is temporarily stifled. But it does.

Jon slides his hands into his fiance's hair, and leaves the monsters for another day.

**Author's Note:**

> to those who didn't see the tags yes, this will have (at least) one more fic! idk when i'll get it out but!! hopefully by next week so i can stop /thinking/ about this!!!!
> 
> meanwhile, catch me at [@tweetsongs](https://tweetsongs.tumblr.com) on tumblr for more jm talk


End file.
